


Phoenix

by nam_jai



Category: Charmed
Genre: Community: femgenficathon, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nam_jai/pseuds/nam_jai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the changed future, Bianca lives on -- and must still choose between evil and good, between her heritage and a new path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2008 femgenficathon on LiveJournal. Thank you to orchida for the beta.

Bianca watched her mother chop tomatoes with the same precision she used for potion-making. Lynn was preparing marinara sauce from her own recipes, one she had never written down but made just so -- and Bianca had been relegated to boiling pasta.

Waiting for water to boil is not the most mentally taxing task, which left Bianca free to silently obsess over the events of the day and on the questions she wanted to ask her mother, if her nerve did not fail her.

As it happened, Lynn broached the subject herself as she minced garlic and her daughter listlessly watched the pot of water faintly steam.

"Did you deliver the potion today?"

"Of course," Bianca answered. "Why would you think I wouldn't?"

"You were late. Our client called to ask where you were."

"_Your_ client," Bianca muttered, but before her mother could catch that, in a rush of bravery, she pushed on. "He made sure I knew I was late. But you never told me it had to be delivered in the morning. What is it, for some noontime ritual? That's not usually a demon's style."

"I don't know why he needs it in the morning. It's enough that he does, and you'll make sure to be there by noon tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? You mean Friday, right?"

"No, I mean tomorrow. He asked for a special delivery, and I agreed. Even though he never told us he needed the potion delivered before noon, he seems to think we need to make it up to him. So we will. We can't get on his bad side. So I'll be making a potion tonight. It won't be as strong as it could be, because it won't sit for two days like it's supposed to, but it will work well enough." She glanced at her daughter and seemed to realize: "You have classes tomorrow. You shouldn't skip. I'll make the delivery."

Bianca had, in fact, been worrying over her full schedule tomorrow morning, about to protest. But no sooner had Lynn preemptively relented, Bianca changed her mind. There was more at stake here than her grade in sociology.

"I'll go. I have a break in my schedule around ten. No big deal."

* * * *

Later that evening, Bianca set aside her reading for the class she now meant to skip, and returned to the kitchen, where her mother now worked at concocting something very different from marinara sauce. The hum of the dishwasher underscored the occasional pops and hisses as Lynn added ingredients to her potion. The Grimoire lay open on the counter, but she did not consult it -- she had made the potion repeatedly in the past two weeks.

Bianca had had no part in the preparation, and had wanted no part. Making deliveries was enough of an imposition on her time, but her mother insisted Bianca take some responsibility in the work that kept this apartment, paid her tuition. It was only the two of them, mother and daughter in the destined calling of magical mercenaries: Phoenix witches, a line seeded in fury and revenge centuries ago. They were not alone in sharing the distinctive mark of their kind, but it was not as though they all got together in a cozy coven to chant "Blessed Be" and trade potion recipes, or whatever good witches did. Bianca had met other Phoenix witches from time to time, when her mother made a call for assistance or consultation. But more often, Lynn worked alone, and trained her daughter to follow in her footsteps alone.

Sometimes Bianca wished she could have studied full-time, graduating two years earlier, and she often felt run ragged by the extra load of work her mother gave her. And other times she felt insulted that her job was to be nothing more than a delivery girl while her mother did the magical heavy-lifting for her most powerful clients. That's how Bianca had felt this time -- at the beginning. It had turned into something different now.

Now she was going to push for information.

She read the Grimoire's open page, and asked, "So why does Kovart want a 'Psychic Enhancement' potion? Trying to read people's minds?" Bianca spoke casually, but the idea worried her, considering her own traitorous thoughts when in the same room with her mother's demon client today.

"No, that's not what it does. It enhances mental energy of the one who consumes it, causing nightmares, hallucinations."

"Why would anyone want to consume it?"

"Some demons do get off on it, but it's more likely Kovart is using it on someone else, an enemy, obviously -- someone he wants to incapacitate."

"Who?"

"I didn't ask, why would I? And he's certainly not telling."

"I'm just wondering about the potion, how it works." Bianca backed these words up by examining the Grimoire's recipe and then the simmering cauldron -- and hoped her mother was buying it. "You said demons get off on it -- it's just for demons then?"

"No, it will work on mortals, witches, warlocks, magical creatures -- the effect would be stronger on mortals, though, since they'd have no magical defenses."

"All the same, I'd better not try it, huh?"

"No. It would not put you through the same mental stress and dangers of permanent insanity, but that doesn't mean it would be fun. You're not a demon."

"I have demonic powers."

"You're not a demon. Why are you so interested in this? Am I going to have to start hiding the potion ingredients from you?"

Without intending to, Bianca had distracted her mother into suspecting potential potion abuse. Kind of a brilliant plan, if it had been on purpose. Now that it was intentional, it was harder to fake it, but Bianca tried to play the affronted daughter. "Calm down, Mother. I was just curious. I thought you'd be glad I'm interested, but forget it. I'll go back to sociology."

Before her mother could reply, she stalked off back to her room, hoping she had learned enough.

Just as she shut her bedroom door Bianca's mobile phone sounded, and she answered it as quickly as she could, in hopes it wouldn't draw Lynn's attention. Because Bianca had an intuition who it was, without even glancing at the caller ID.

Sure enough, she recognized the young woman's voice, however panicked and near sobbing it was.

"Bianca, it's happening again. Worse than before. You said you could help..."

"I will, Valerie. You're at home?"

"Yes," came the high-pitched, terrorized reply. "They're all around."

"They" made no noise, however -- because, as Bianca now guessed, they were potion-induced hallucinations.

"Just stay put. Can you do that for me? Stay where you are, and I'll be there quicker than you know it. I think I know what's happening to you, and we'll figure out a way to stop it."

Bianca just paused long enough to throw a sweater on before shimmering out of her room and into the chilly alley behind Valerie's apartment building.

Only then did she remember she didn't actually know the girl's apartment number. They weren't friends, just casual acquaintances who had chatted when Bianca made her potion deliveries to Kovart in the office building where Valerie worked at the reception desk in the lobby. Then three days ago, Bianca had encountered Valerie, choked with sobs, in the women's bathroom.

"You'll think I'm crazy," she told Bianca, her voice trembling.

"Trust me, I've known a lot of crazy things in my life. If you can tell anyone, you can tell me."

So Valerie explained how her apartment was "haunted -- or possessed. Can an apartment be possessed?"

"I don't know -- maybe. What do you see?" Bianca had asked over coffee at a nearby café.

"Shadows of horrible creatures, just out of the corner of my eye. I can't ever quite see them, but they're there. And sometimes in the night, these howling, screaming noises wake me up -- then it's silent. I thought maybe I was going insane, except ..." She shuddered. "This morning, when I got up, my bedroom door was covered with claw marks. Dozens of them."

That part didn't really fit, Bianca thought now. If the potion was to blame, these monsters only existed in Valerie's head. Unless the claw marks were also in her head, or Valerie had made the marks herself in some kind of hallucinatory fit.

In any case, Valerie had begged Bianca to come see the marks, desperate to prove the reality to someone, even if that someone was a near-stranger who had shown the slightest pity.

_Even if that someone is someone who did this to her_, Bianca thought.

She didn't need to worry, as it turned out, about the apartment number. Valerie was out shivering on the stoop. Unlike Bianca, who was dressed for an evening of studying in sweatpants and a T-shirt covered with a shapeless sweater, Valerie was still in her work clothes, the ill-fitting navy blue suit that was the receptionists' "uniform." Bianca wondered if she had been too afraid to come home until late, and had called for help not long after.

"I can't go back in there," Valerie said without a greeting. "You said you could help, that you knew people who could help..."

This was true, Bianca had said that, without thinking much past the idea of asking her mother and consulting the Grimoire.

It was a poor idea to begin with and it had been shot to hell by the realization that her mother's potion could be causing this. Phoenix witches didn't do this, they didn't help people. They worked for pay, not the gratitude of sobbing mortals. That was for other, lesser witches. And Bianca didn't know any of those sort.

But she did know of them -- of one family in particular. Her mother had mentioned these women with scorn.

Seek sanctuary with sworn enemies? Bianca knew where they lived -- that was common knowledge in the magical community.

"Do you think you can drive?" she asked Valerie. "Are you up to it?"

"I think so. It's better when I'm outside." Her unsteady move to stand up gave lie to her words, but she looked a little hopeful. "Are we going somewhere safe?"

"It's the place where people go to get help -- 1329 Prescott Street."


	2. Chapter 2

Bianca had never seen the Charmed Ones, that she knew of -- she wouldn't recognize them if they passed her on the street, but she knew they were women about her mother's age.

But it was a young man about her own age who answered the door and looked over the two women with interest. "Can I help you?"

Valerie looked at Bianca, who had been caught off-guard, but she quickly realized: _This must be one of their kids._

"We're looking for the Charmed Ones," she told him.

He studied them under the porch light. "No one's home but me. But I can help."

"I didn't come here for you."

"Why can't he help? I'm Valerie, by the way." Bianca's charge had visibly relaxed, almost eager to be the damsel in distress.

Bianca sighed. "Yes, why not?"

"Well, come on inside. I'm Wyatt -- my mother is one of the Charmed Ones, so you're in luck, Valerie and ..."

"Bianca," she said as he held the door open and allowed them through.

Wyatt continued to speak as he led them from the foyer into a sitting room. "My aunts haven't lived here for years, you know. Not to say they're not around a lot, because they are -- just not tonight. My mom's out of town, on vacation with my dad and I'm not going to bug her if I can help it. But don't worry. You're in good hands."

Calming down a little seemed to give Valerie the luxury of asking questions about her would-be saviors. "So," she said to Wyatt, "you're like, a psychic or a ghostbuster or something?"

"Uh, no, I'm not psychic, but I have dealt with ghosts before."

Bianca broke in. "Valerie, Wyatt's family are witches. They help people with supernatural problems all the time." Glancing at Wyatt, she added, "I'm a witch too, but..." _My kind don't help people._ "I didn't think I'd be able to handle this on my own."

"Witches?" Even after everything, she was skeptical.

And Wyatt had no patience for that, apparently. "Just explain what's going on."

So Valerie told him about the creatures she had been hearing and then seeing, starting a few weeks ago -- about when the demon who had set up business in her building began receiving the potion, as Bianca knew, even if Valerie didn't.

"And how do you come into this?" Wyatt asked Bianca.

She felt her cheeks flush. "I had some business in the same office building where she works. I found out she was in trouble, I offered to help."

"Have you seen these things yourself?"

"No, I--"

"I'm not making this up!" Valerie injected.

"I believe you," Wyatt said. "I just wanted to know if Bianca could describe them -- being a witch, she might know what we're dealing with."

"A witch..." Valerie echoed, with a look to Bianca, who imagined she saw in that glance how Valerie had picked up on the faint disbelief in Wyatt's use of that. Bianca wasn't sure whether to be offended or relieved. If he thought she was a mortal with magical pretensions, he wouldn't look too deeply into her involvement.

"Wait here," he said, and Valerie gaped as he disappeared in a glow of white-blue lights.

He reappeared not thirty seconds later, holding a large old book that Bianca identified instantly. It was their book, a "good" version of her mother's own Grimoire. The Book of Shadows, coveted by many a demon, untouchable by evil. Bianca instinctively recoiled as he passed her with it. And he noticed, she knew it, although he merely plonked the book in front of Valerie.

"Look through here and see if you can find anything that looks like the things in your apartment."

"But they don't look like much of anything."

"Just try." Then to Bianca: "Can I talk to you in private?"

Valerie raised her eyebrows at this, but when Bianca replied, "Sure," she turned her attention to the Book of Shadows -- grimacing with distaste at the very first page.

Wyatt led Bianca back to the foyer, where Bianca turned on him.

"Let me guess, you don't believe I'm a witch."

"Yeah, that had crossed my mind. We get our share of dippy Mother Earth types who want to be friends. But that's really not you, is it? We also get our share of demons pretending to be innocents to get close to us -- usually to get the Book of Shadows."

"You left Valerie alone with your book."

"No demon is that good an actor. Plus, she could touch it, and evil can't touch the book. But you ... You're not a very good actor, sorry. And you obviously wanted to keep your distance from the book."

"I know how powerful those things can be. And the Charmed Ones' Book of Shadows?"

"It doesn't jump out and attack people. Look, I actually believe that you want to help this girl. But you obviously are hiding something. Just tell the truth and we can work together."

Bianca looked away, considering what to tell him, when a photo among family portraits on the wall caught her eye: Wyatt, what had to be a recent picture, with another young man, a boy still almost, with brown hair and a more reserved look. Wyatt's arm was across his shoulder. She hadn't been afraid of Wyatt -- until now. A strange fear came over her, an overwhelming urge for fight or flight, and there was no reason for it.

She shivered, and tried to let it pass. But she pointed at the brown-haired boy and asked: "Who's this?"

"My brother, Chris. What --"

"The truth is, my family is not like yours." She pulled up the sleeve of her sweater to reveal her birthmark. "Do you know this?"

"No."

"My mother told me that it's in your book. I'm a Phoenix witch. 'Risen from the ashes of Salem.' We're not born to use our powers to help mortals, only ourselves. Innocents, demons, it's all the same. It's about survival."

He took her wrist to look more closely at the birthmark. She tensed again, but did not free herself from his grip. His expression betrayed nothing.

"And Valerie?" he asked, dropping her wrist.

"I think she's been slipped a potion -- a potion that my mother made and sold to a demon named Kovart. The potion causes horrible hallucinations, and ultimately, insanity."

"Like she's been having. So you don't think what she's seeing is real."

"Probably not."

"Then why isn't she hallucinating here?"

"I ... I'm not sure."

"Okay, we'll deal with that somehow. How well do you know the potion?"

"Pretty well."

"Enough to help me make an antidote?"

"Maybe. I can try."

"Why?"

That took her aback. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why are you doing this? If you Phoenix witches are what you say, and your own mother is involved in this -- what makes you different?"

"I don't know, I just -- I just got to know Valerie a little and wanted to help her. I mean, I got to know her and found out she was in danger before I connected it to my mother, and ... Look, I don't know. My reasons are my own, whatever they are, and I'm not telling you. You say you believe I want to help, then just believe me."

Wyatt shrugged. "Suit yourself."

As he leaned back to check on Valerie, Bianca found her gaze drawn by that photo of him and his brother again. "Why isn't your brother here?"

"He's got a life. Kind of a boring one, true, but a life all the same."

"And you don't?" she teased -- just to lighten her own mood.

"What we're doing right now, this is my life. It's what I want."

"Chris doesn't?"

"I wouldn't say that. He's just more into school than me. Tonight he's off studying for some test or another. Mom and Dad are kind of protective of him, but he has gone out to fight evil once or twice. What about you?"

"My mother's kind of protective of me, too, so I'm usually just running errands for evil." She said this with a wry smile that earned a chuckle from Wyatt, before they were interrupted by Valerie's shout.

"This is it! I've found it! Oh God... they're nasty."

Bianca followed Wyatt back into the living room. He took the Book from Valerie and read aloud:

" _'Brainsuckers'_ \-- well, that's descriptive, if not especially creative -- _'demonic creatures of low intelligence that feed off psychic energy. Usually keeping to the Underworld, they arise from hibernation every ten years to feed. They prefer victims with latent psychic powers, which they snack on gradually, until fully devouring the person's consciousness._"

He looked dubiously at the horrified Valerie. "Do you have psychic powers?"

She seemed offended by the question. "No!"

"It did say latent," Bianca pointed out. "Maybe they just like unused psychic powers."

"Oh!" Valerie said, perking up. "Sometimes when the phone rings, I know who's calling even before I look at the ID. Maybe I really could be psychic."

Wyatt gave a look to Bianca, his face turned away from Valerie, and rolled his eyes. Back to Valerie, he said, "That's not really psychic. That's luck. Look, it doesn't really matter why you're being targeted, we just have to vanquish the demons that have decided you're a tasty lunch. And the Book of Shadows has an easy spell that Bianca and I can say to get rid of them. No problem. We just need to go to your apartment."

Bianca addressed Wyatt: "Don't you think she needs a potion for her mental state?"

"I'm not sure you've got that right. These things are real, and a threat."

"It could be both. She's had these headaches..."

"People get migraines. Nothing to do with magic."

"What are you guys talking about now?" Valerie demanded.

Bianca answered: "I think maybe your psychic energy was artificially enhanced. It could have made her 'tastier,' as you say," she added to Wyatt. "Let's just make an antidote to be sure."

"You mean," Valerie said, "something's been making me psychic?"

"Or someone," Bianca said. "And not in a good way. You're not going to predict lottery numbers or even make a living telling fortunes. You'll go insane. I think that's worth preventing, don't you, Wyatt?"

He gave in. "Sure. Let's make the antidote, hope there are no side effects -- but go to her apartment before she takes it and see if taking care of these brainsucking demons takes care of the problem."

So they moved to the kitchen, where, evidently, the Halliwells kept all their potion ingredients -- just like Bianca's mother did herself. Bianca remembered another Phoenix witch who had visited and seemed shocked that Lynn had no room set aside for magical tasks, but Lynn was nothing if not ruthlessly practical. "Why waste a room in an apartment when all the equipment is in the kitchen?" she had told the other witch dismissively.

And here the Halliwells had this house -- bigger than any place she and her mother had ever shared -- but they seemed to operate on the same idea.

But when Bianca said as much to Wyatt as they chopped and measured ingredients, he disabused her of that notion.

"The attic is the room for magic here. That's where the Book of Shadows is kept, anyway. Potion-making, well, it depends on how much my mom is in the mood to let her cooking space be taken over by newt's tongue and crickets and mandrake root." He flung into the pot a pinch of what was, in fact, dessicated newt's tongue and the mixture responded with a satisfying hiss. "She was in a sharing mood before she and Dad left on vacation."

"Um..." Valerie spoke from the sidelines in a somewhat squeaky tone. "Are you expecting me to drink something with newt's tongue and crickets in it?"

"This?" Wyatt said. "No, no, no. Don't worry. It's all natural." He leaned over and inhaled. "I can't promise you it will taste good, but if you've been fed the bad stuff like Bianca thinks, this will cure anything it may have done to you."

"It kind of stinks."

"Potions usually do," Bianca said. She held out a vial of cardamom to Wyatt. "Is it ready for the finishing touch?"

At his nod, she tipped it in, and he gave the pot a shake and removed it from the burner.

"We've got to wait for it to cool," Bianca told Valerie.

But Wyatt had other ideas. "No, we don't." He paused in thought, and then said, "Potion hot as the sun / Too hot to touch ... errrm... / We need to be done / Be cold but not too much."

Bianca couldn't help sniggering. "That was terrible."

"Don't mock my rhyming!" Wyatt protested. "You're like my brother, demanding Shakespeare or something. Look, it worked."

Bianca, still grinning, felt the edge of the pot, which was indeed slightly chilly. "I hope your rhyme didn't mess with the magic."

"Don't be a worrywart. Let's bottle it up and go."

****

Vials tucked into the pocket of Wyatt's jacket, they headed out into the night again. As Wyatt locked up the door to the Manor, Valerie said, "I parked down there on the street."

"We can get there a whole lot quicker," Wyatt said in an aside to Bianca as they descended the stairs. "You saw earlier -- I'm half-Whitelighter. I can orb us there."

_Oh yeah, well, I'm all Phoenix, and I can shimmer, Mister._ But she didn't say that aloud. Instead, she said, "Can you orb Valerie's car back to her apartment too?"

"Don't know, I've never tried."

"Look, let's keep freaking her out to a minimum, huh? You can ride in a car with us grounded humans, okay?"


	3. Chapter 3

Valerie began to tremble as they waited in front of the elevator in the lobby of her apartment building. "I can feel it, can't you feel it here?"

Wyatt and Bianca looked at each other -- Bianca couldn't sense anything, and it didn't seem like Wyatt could either.

"What kind of 'witches' are you guys?" Valerie said, becoming more agitated. "You can't even tell what's going on!"

"Valerie, this is why I think you were fed some kind of potion to make you sense these things. This is what I mean by a kind of psychic power making you crazy."

The elevator arrived. Wyatt entered immediately, while Bianca gently led Valerie in.

"You don't want to live like this, right?"

"No," Valerie whimpered.

"Then push the floor for your apartment, and Wyatt, give her the potion."

Valerie punched "4" on the elevator buttons -- a creaky old-style elevator in an old building -- and then she pulled back and hugged herself. Wyatt drew out the vial and put it in her hand.

She took it and then closed her eyes, leaning against the elevator wall. She looked up in terror when they jolted to a stop. They were already at the fourth floor.

It took both Bianca and Wyatt this time to lead her off the elevator. A neighbor was waiting there -- at least, Bianca hoped he was a neighbor and not someone more sinister. _Valerie's paranoia is getting to me_, she thought. But he looked harmless enough, a young man in sweats, holding a gym bag.

"Uh, Valerie?" he said.

"Had a little too much to drink," Wyatt told the guy, and Bianca confirmed this with an apologetic smile. "Don't suppose you can show us her door? She's a little out of it."

But the conversation, or the sight of this man, seemed to reach Valerie, who straightened up, her face flushed feverishly -- and with a touch of anger -- and she said, "I'm fine. I'm not feeling well. But I can show you where my apartment is, for God's sake." She gave a tight approximation of a smile to the guy, who appeared both concerned and a bit repelled. "I'm fine, Brett," she told him. "I think it was something I ate."

"Okay," he said, rapidly stepping onto the elevator, which he had been holding open until that point. "Feel better." The doors slid shut and they heard the elevator descend.

"Dammit. This is ruining my life." Valerie jerked her arms away from Bianca and Wyatt and half-staggered a few doors down, struggled to pull out her keys and opened the lock with shaking hands.

The door opened onto a small living room, and Valerie collapsed on the nearest chair, still grasping, unopened, the potion vial. She pointed down a short hallway. "My bedroom door. I told you about the scratches."

Just a few strides down the hallway and Wyatt reached the bedroom. After a short inspection, he called back, "They're real, all right. It's not in her head."

"She still needs to drink the potion."

Wyatt stopped at the entrance of the living room, his height and presence seeming to take up way too much space for this cheap little place. Now it almost seemed like the Manor had dwarfed him, fooling Bianca, who beat back that strange fear again. He was staring at the ceiling.

"That's not in her head either," he announced.

Bianca and Valerie followed his gaze, and Valerie screamed and dropped the potion. After only just rescuing it from rolling under the couch, Bianca stood up to go to Wyatt's side.

"That's what was in the Book of Shadows?" she asked.

"Yep," he said, drawing out of his pocket the paper on which he had copied the spell.

Above their heads squirmed dark scorpion-like creatures, somewhat fuzzy to Bianca's sight, but they had enough form that she could see them crawling upside down, creeping slowly to cluster over Valerie, who screeched and curled into a fetal position on the couch.

"Nasty," Wyatt said.

"Then let's get rid of them."

He held the paper where they could read together:

"_Vile feeders from below  
Fattened on the mind  
Return to where evil flows  
Leave this innocent behind!_"

It was instantly effective, creating a whirlwind in the tiny apartment, blowing papers and knocking lamps over as Bianca's hair whipped around her face -- but the important thing was that the specters were dissolving in the wind, swirling to the floor and away, broken into millions of black particles ... then gone.

"Grams didn't write Shakespeare either, but it works," Wyatt said.

But Valerie was still shuddering and cowering on the couch. Bianca dashed over and pressed the vial into her hand. "They're gone from the apartment, and they'll be gone from your head if you just drink this. Go on."

Valerie now obeyed, choking back the potion while her eyes continued darting above as if the demons still loomed. Once she drank, though, her breath began to calm, her shoulders slowly stopped shaking, and she uncurled herself and unsteadily brushed her hair back from her face.

"You okay now?" Bianca asked. "You don't see or hear anything else?"

Valerie shook her head and looked around at the mess of her living room. "I'm never getting my deposit back."

She was unsmiling, but Bianca could only respond with a slight, rueful laugh. "Sorry."

"My aunt knows a spell," Wyatt said. Even though Valerie looked unenthusiastic about more spells, he continued, "How does it go ... 'Let the object of objection become--"

"I didn't expect this," a voice sharply interrupted.

Kovart, who must have shimmered in while Wyatt was talking, now stood in the middle of the living room. He was looking directly at Bianca, who got to her feet slowly, while Wyatt moved to place himself at her side, in front of Valerie -- who was none too pleased.

This demon was human-looking, at worst dressed in a tacky suit, and she showed no fear of him, demanding in a voice still rough from her crying and screaming, "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm someone whose customers were just vanquished, looks like. I show up to see if they're satisfied with how their feasting is going, and to get their _late_ payment, and what do I find? Customers gone, vanquished -- I can smell it -- and a witch who's supposed to be working for me on the scene."

Valerie turned on Bianca. "Working for him?"

"I don't work for you or any demon, I work for myself." Lynn's words rolled off Bianca's tongue.

"So it's just a double-cross then. That's all I need to know. By the way," he added, raising his hand, a fireball glowing there, "your mother will be next." And he hurled the fireball at Bianca.

She could have shimmered out of its path, but Wyatt thought of something like that too, and more quickly, and before she knew it, he had grabbed her arm and she felt herself dissolve in a cloud of orb lights while Valerie screeched again and dove to the floor. When the room reappeared to Bianca, she and Wyatt were on the opposite side, and the fireball had harmlessly hit a wall. Harmless, that is, except to the now-scorched Monet poster tacked there.

"She's really not getting her deposit back," Wyatt said, and with a short, sharp movement of his hand, sent Kovart crashing into the wall, tearing the poster for good, and then pinned the demon, who struggled futilely, grasping at the unseen hold around his neck, his feet dangling off the ground.

"I wonder if we can get him back to the Manor," Wyatt said, his hand outstretched, seemingly choking the open air. "We can hold him there with crystals while we figure out how to vanquish him."

Feeling a sudden rush of frustration at Wyatt's stepping in and taking over, Bianca snapped, "I can take care of him." She crossed the room, and could feel the power pinning Kovart there, repelling her own power like an opposing magnetic force.

"Drop him," she told Wyatt without turning around.

"Don't be an idiot."

"I said, drop him. I can finish him off."

Kovart had been looking past her with terror and fury at Wyatt, but when the power holding him was withdrawn and he fell to the floor, awkwardly hitting the arm of the sofa, he pulled himself up with his attention on Bianca -- and a smirk on his face.

One hand raised another fireball while the other shot out for her neck. He had no idea what she could do and how he was leaving himself vulnerable -- and this time Bianca thought lightning-fast. Her own hand shot out, aimed for his chest, and the fireball fizzled out when her fist plunged in his chest, creating a fiery glow of connection, draining him of his own considerable powers. She had never taken it this far: reaching beyond his powers to his very life force, swathed in darkness as it was; her arm, her entire body strained with the effort of it. When the red glow began to swim with black specks, like lava radiating from the center of the demon's body, she pulled away -- and fire then rapidly consumed him. He vanished in smoke and screaming.

"That's some power," Wyatt said.

Bianca turned to the others, and saw Valerie staring at her in horror.

"Get out of here. I don't want you in here anymore."

Bianca took the blow, too numb to react, but Wyatt was outraged. "She just saved your life!"

"You too -- I don't know what you people are, or why you brought this here, but get the hell out!"

"You have got to be kidding me--"

"Let's just go," Bianca said. "Leave her."

"No way -- she came to us for help, and now she--"

But this time Bianca was the one to grab his arm, and while he was in mid-sentence, shimmered them out, heading for the alley outside.


	4. Chapter 4

From the heat of shimmering to a night now chilly enough to see their breath. Wyatt steadied himself, recovering from the surprise of the shimmer, and said, "Where did you learn to do that?" He didn't seem disgusted by the demonic power, just curious.

"Where did you learn to orb?" Bianca responded. "I just can, okay?"

He shrugged and looked up to the apartment building, to the rows of windows, lit and dark, as if searching for Valerie's. "What an ungrateful -- You know, when people can't even appreciate that you've saved their damn life, sometimes you think it just doesn't pay to be good."

She wondered if he was trying to cheer her up, so she managed a weak smile.

"Don't tell my family I said that," he added. "They get nervous about me."

"I really doubt I'm ever going to talk to your family, about you or anything else." She wrapped her sweater around herself and stepped back from him. "I have to get home."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" She gave a bitter laugh. "You know, my mother would say it never pays to be good, and maybe she's right. And when she finds out what happened here, she might kill me. All in all, this has been a disaster."

"No, it wasn't. You kicked ass. The demon's not coming after you or your mother. You vanquished him, and he was doing bad things, probably not just to Valerie, and that's got to be worth something. Didn't it feel just a little good?"

Bianca shivered. "Yeah, maybe a little." And maybe she meant it, a little.

* * * *

She left him to go home on his own, and shimmered back into her room. Her door was open onto the dark hallway -- when she had left, it had been closed. As quietly as she could, Bianca clicked the door shut, exchanged the bright overhead light for a low lamp next to her bed, and then collapsed, the state of adrenaline suddenly crashing down.

_Her hand, plunged into that demon's chest, draining not just his powers but his life force ..._ Bianca relived the feel of the heat in her hand, and shuddered. Wyatt Halliwell had been impressed. Should she feel proud?

It was not the first time she had killed a demon -- she could conjure an athame and use it with lethal force, relying on the many hours of training in hand to hand combat that had been the bane of her teenage years. She was better at that kind of thing than was her own mother, who had not been trained, as Bianca had, by a Phoenix who had combined the witch traditions with mortal martial arts skills.

Despite her ultimate triumph over Kovart, tonight Bianca would have mortified, infuriated that teacher. She was out of practice, her responses slow enough to put her in danger. She would be dead now if Wyatt had not been there.

But she had held her own in the end, and discovered a new weapon of her own. She had killed a demon, and that was good. The Charmed Ones, the whole Halliwell family, they were renowned for killing demons, and they were considered good.

Her mother had killed not just demons in their line of work. Other magical beings, good or neutral, Bianca knew that for sure. Had Lynn ever killed a human -- a mortal or a witch? That her daughter did not know.

But this was not what Phoenix witches cared about -- parsing out the good and evil. Bianca never would have been in danger if she had not answered Valerie's call, come to the aid of a woman who then showed contempt and fear, not gratitude.

There was a rap on the door, which opened as Bianca said, "Come in."

"Where have you been?" Lynn asked. Her tone, as far as Bianca could read it, was casual. They had an understanding: Even if Bianca lived at home for now while she went to school -- and while her mother wanted her near for the Phoenix calling -- she was still an adult and could come and go as she pleased, as an adult.

But tonight, Bianca felt her insides clench; she felt like a fifteen year old caught sneaking out to smoke cigarettes and party with her friends. And like any fifteen year old, her instinct was to lie: _Just went out for coffee, for a bite to eat, to get a book from the library_ ... plenty of plausible excuses.

She couldn't bring herself to use any of them. Nor could she come out with an outright confession. So the half truth: "A friend called, she needed my help with something. I could get there quickly, so I did."

"A word of warning would be nice, so you don't just vanish on me."

"I know, sorry. I left in a hurry."

Her expression still neutral, Lynn nodded. "All right. Well, don't stay up too late studying."

Her mother began to close the door. But Bianca suddenly propelled herself out of bed, to her feet, and she found herself saying, "Her name is Valerie."

"Whose name?"

"The friend who called. Not really a friend, actually. Just this girl I met recently."

"Yes?" Lynn looked perplexed.

"You don't even know who she is. Of course not."

"Why would I? You said you haven't known her long. Did you meet her at school?"

"I met her when I started to make deliveries to Kovart. She works in the same building, as a receptionist in the main lobby, and not long after we met, she started having symptoms of being fed a particularly nasty potion, Mother."

"I see."

"You know what that potion was for? To fatten her brain up for feeding time, that's all. She was nobody, didn't do anything to draw any demon's attention. Except Kovart happened to set up shop in that same building, and decided she'd make a good lunch for his 'customers.' And you didn't know her name, you didn't know anything about what Kovart was doing. Just a job."

"That's right," she said evenly. Bianca turned away in disgust, and Lynn circled around to make sure to face her daughter. "I have told you. You know the history. You know the Phoenix heritage. Witches owe mortals nothing. We certainly don't owe them 'help' if they run afoul of some demon."

"Oh for God's sake, Mother, Valerie didn't burn anyone at the stake. She didn't think anything about magic one way or another until swarming demons attacked her, thanks to your potion. A potion made by a witch and delivered by a witch, and guess what -- now she hates witches."

"You didn't help her then?"

"Yes, I helped her. She's alive and mentally stable enough to hate witches, isn't she?"

"I don't care about her -- Bianca, this is very important: Did you vanquish all the demons attacking that girl? No one saw you? Because Kovart --"

"Oh, he saw. And I vanquished him too."

In spite of herself, Lynn looked impressed, but she said, "It's a risk you had no right to take."

"Is it the money? Fine, how much was Kovart going to pay us? I'll cover it."

"It's not the money." Bianca rolled her eyes in disbelief, but Lynn continued: "Yes, what I do -- what _we_ do -- puts a roof over your head. But more important, it keeps you safe."

"I don't need--"

"You have no idea what I shield you from. Not just demons, but from having to do the kind of things I have to do to keep us safe. You once told me not to lie to you about what it feels like to kill -- you said, 'Don't tell me you don't feel a thing.'"

"What are you talking about? I never--"

"I've thought about this for a long time. I thought about the day the Halliwell sisters were here -- you won't remember, you were only four years old -- and how they were so secure, secure in the protection of Whitelighters and Elders, secure in their smug moral superiority. But all I have is myself and my daughter. So if you still want to know -- it's not a lie, if you expect me to feel remorse for doing what I have to do to protect us. I've made mistakes from time to time, but I won't tell you that I beat myself up over them, because I don't. I have to prepare you for this world, and it's a small price to pay to keep you alive."

"You can't make me be as unfeeling, as ruthless as you are."

"I haven't tried. I've tried to keep you from the rougher jobs, and now, you don't find killing easy. It may make you a better person than me -- but if that's true, I'm proud that I've given you the luxury of having that conscience, that's all."

Bianca was momentarily too stunned to speak, and feeling like she was missing some key element of this tirade -- like when she had ever accused her mother of lying about how she felt about killing. When Lynn turned to the door to leave, apparently satisfied she had had the last word, Bianca spoke.

"If it's all so dangerous and we get no protection from Whitelighters or whoever, why not just _not do it_? Don't do magic, bind our powers, get a real job, live a real life that doesn't involve, oh, being contractors for demons?"

"Because magic is part of who we are, and we can't ignore that."

"We can't? Watch me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm done with this." Bianca threw open her closet and rummaged around for a suitcase. She pulled it out and flung it open on the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Well, being a good witch saving innocents didn't work out so great tonight -- what I really want is to give the life of mortals a try. Obviously, I can't do that with my mother."

Lynn guessed what Bianca meant. "You think going to your father is the answer? How long has it been since you've seen him?"

"Too long, since you never give me a break to take a trip to L.A." Bianca was throwing clothes into the suitcase as she spoke. "Anyway, why not? Last time we talked he said he could get me a summer job with one of his customers. I'll just ask for it a little bit early."

"Don't be ridiculous. What about school? You're going to quit mid-semester to work as a waitress?"

"Okay, there's one bit of magic I'll keep for a while -- until the end of the semester anyway. Shimmering makes for a really easy commute."

Bianca slammed the haphazardly stuffed suitcase shut and zipped it up with some effort while Lynn changed tactics.

"Let's talk about this," she said. "You don't need to run off in the middle of the night. Let's just both calm down, get some sleep, and we'll talk in the morning."

The truth was, Bianca knew her mother was right about that, at least. It was not rational to show up on her father's doorstep this late, like a runaway. Better to think this through with a clearer head in the morning.

But if she waited, would she lose her resolve? Days would pass, then weeks and soon she'd be back to the same old life, delivering potions to shady characters, trying to fit in studying...

In her right hand, she thought she could still feel the lingering warmth of the power she had used on Kovart. It was both intoxicating and frightening, as was the choice before her now. Did she want to give up magic forever? Maybe not. But giving it up for a little while, to clear her head -- clear her soul -- sounded more right than anything she had chosen in her twenty-two years of life so far.

She looked her mother in the eye, and shook her head. "I have to do this now."

Laying her hand on the suitcase, she took a deep breath, and shimmered out, heading for a residential street in Los Angeles.

It was warmer here. Despite the hour, three teenagers, two girls and a boy, laughed and chattered and flirted in a driveway across the street. They seemed oblivious to the young woman who had just appeared from nowhere, clutching a hastily packed suitcase, her old life blown to ashes.

_No_, Bianca told herself, _not that_. Wasn't that where this all got started, so long ago -- destruction, vengeance, isolation? Whether she was a waitress, a student, or some new kind of witch, that's what she had to leave behind.

_And rise up._

****

The End


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